


white silver purple

by tracy7307



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6182173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracy7307/pseuds/tracy7307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn falls in love through the lens of three different colors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	white silver purple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isisanubis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isisanubis/gifts).



> Thank you ever so much to isisanubus for the beta and hand-holding, as well as the colors themselves. 
> 
> See end notes for the inspiration for Poe's song.

_You have been a prisoner of a little pond, I am the ocean and its turbulent flood.  
Come merge with me, leave this world of ignorance.  
Be with me, I will open the gate to your love._

**Rumi**

**White**

“FN-2187,” Phasma’s voice sneered. “So much wasted potential. Such a pity to do this to one who held such promise. _Traitor._ ” She spat the last word as he looked up at her, restrained by his wrists and ankles at the bottom of a sunken pit aboard the Finalizer. She waved her hand and pieces of white plastoid armor clattered down on him. The pit’s floor sank rapidly and the armor continued to pile, covering him. It blanked out the sterile white light above and became heavier and heavier as the heap grew. He struggled to breathe under the weight of it.

Tears streamed from the corners of his eyes. “Can’t breathe,” he gasped through shallow breaths. He tugged in a futile effort against his wrist restraints, straps biting into his skin. “Can’t breathe.” 

Through the layers of armor, he heard a voice. “Buddy.” He blinked and his wrists were free – blinked again and the crushing weight disappeared from his chest. 

“Finn,” the voice said gently. 

Finn sat bolt upright, gulping air as the nightmare faded, trying to fill his starved lungs. He looked around wildly and felt a hand on his ankle. 

“Hey. You’re alright.” 

Finn focused on the source of the calm voice. 

Poe sat at the edge of his bed. The moonlight streaming in from the window highlighted Poe’s features in the dark: white light streaking across dark hair, bare arms, eyebrows drawn in concern, jaw covered in stubble. “You’re in our room, buddy. It’s okay.” 

Finn didn’t realize he was clutching his bedsheets until he released them, fingers still tense. _Safe. I’m safe,_ he thought, but he still couldn’t shake that feeling of being trapped, of utter hopelessness, of suffocation – both physical and emotional. It felt like a stone sinking in his gut. 

Despair dragged down his shoulders. He dipped his head and tried to blink away the gathering tears. 

Poe shifted forward, placing a hand on Finn’s shoulder. Touch was always discouraged in the First Order; every small touch bestowed upon him since his escape subsequently felt like a jewel placed on his skin. He leaned into Poe’s hand. 

“I got you, Finn,” Poe said as he moved to Finn’s side, pulling him into his arms. Finn went gratefully, burying his face into the crook of Poe’s neck and placing his hands on Poe’s waist. Poe’s skin smelled faintly of oil and a heady musk of sleep. “Okay,” Poe said, his breath fanning across Finn’s cheek, his hands rubbing little circles over Finn’s back. “It’s okay.” 

Finn had heard of ancient societies reusing parchment by scraping away the previous text and writing on top, leaving outlines of the original text behind; he felt like that now – that Poe was writing a new reality across his skin with his breath, and that if Poe said the words enough times, they would become truth. “It’s okay,” Poe said again, tightening his embrace, writing a new history for Finn. “It’s okay.” 

Gradually, the nervous twist of Finn’s stomach settled. In Poe’s arms, Finn found peace. 

“C’mon. Lie back with me,” Poe said as he leaned back against Finn’s pillow. He kept his arm wrapped around Finn’s shoulder, and Finn rested his head on Poe’s chest. “Y’know, when I was little and had nightmares, my mom would sing to me.” Poe’s hand slid over the top of Finn’s arm. “I could sing to you, if you wanted. I’m not saying I’m great or anything, but one time I stole Pava’s honey cake and she was gonna kick my ass, but then I sang to her and she backed off. So I guess my voice can’t be all that horrible.” 

Finn huffed a laugh and nodded his head, afraid that if he talked, his voice would crack with the emotion lodged in his throat. 

Quietly, slowly, Poe started to sing – 

_Out in, in the fighter seats, stars shining from the sky below,_  
_Down in, in the secret base, light shining from the window,_  
_But it’s just you and me._  
_It’s just you and me._

Poe’s voice was hushed, and sleep tugged at Finn’s consciousness. 

_I breathe your smile, hold it in my weary hand,_  
_Protect it from the sand below._  
_Out in the galaxy, echoes of a thousand feet._  
_But it’s just you and me._  
_It’s just you and me._

Finally Finn felt relief from the prison-world of his nightmare. With Poe’s song in his head and his hand on the soft fabric of Poe’s white tank top, he drifted back to sleep.

**Silver**

Poe was trying to hide something, Finn could tell; it might have taken Finn three months of learning how to read his friend, but Finn could still see it during the quiet moments on base.

He noticed it once when Poe sat on his bed with a book in his hands, long minutes having passed since he looked at its pages; his gaze hovered unfocused on some distant point, brows drawn. “How’s the book?” Finn had asked, and Poe’s features snapped back into his usual cheery self. “Good, it’s good,” Poe lied. 

It happened once more in the hangar when Jess and Snap cracked a joke about Kylo Ren, doubled over with laughter, but Poe didn’t smile. When they eventually straightened up and looked to Poe, only then did a grin spread across his face – one that didn’t reach the corners of his eyes. One that didn’t cause those laugh lines that Finn had come to love.

The last time Finn encountered it, he had just returned from the nearby forest holding a handful of silver wildflowers. He’d never seen anything so beautiful; they shimmered like freshly polished chrome yet were soft as silk to the touch. Each petal was as long as Finn’s pinky finger and had the curved shape of a stormtrooper’s shoulder armor.( _Give him flowers. He likes them_ General Organa had said to him with a wink as they passed each other in the corridor once. Finn wondered how she knew, then remembered Solo’s words - _Women always figure out the truth. Always._ ) 

Finn visited Poe’s usual spots, each one coming up empty – he wasn’t in their quarters, in the mess hall, in the common room, or anywhere near Black One. It wasn’t until he was walking past an open door at the end of an abandoned corridor that he caught a glimpse of Poe. What he saw gave him pause, though, and he hesitated before making himself known. 

Poe was sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. He sniffled and his back shook several times; one strangled sob escaped from his throat, muffled through his fingers. 

Finn’s heart fell to a thousand pieces. He placed the flowers on a table next to the door, walked into the room and approached his friend, standing in front of him. Finn sank to his knees and touched Poe’s forearms. “Poe,” Finn said gently. “What’s wrong?” 

Poe lowered his hands. Misery was written all over his face. His eyes were puffy and red, his nose pink, and dark circles rimmed under his eyes. Tears slid down his cheeks. 

Immediately Poe tried steeling himself. “Buddy,” he said with false cheer, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt and sitting up straight. “I’m fine. I’m okay.” Yet even as he said it, his voice cracked. 

Finn wrapped his hands around Poe’s and pulled them back down. “No. You’re not.” He pushed into Poe’s space, nudged his knees open and pressed his forehead to Poe’s. Poe leaned down, finally dropping the wall and reaching to Finn for support. 

A couple of tears dripped onto Finn’s collarbone. “I can’t sleep,” Poe said shakily. “Whenever I close my eyes, it’s like I can still feel him there rifling through my thoughts. Like there’s the ghost of some leech in mind.” 

Finn reached up and placed his hands on Poe’s shoulders, rubbing gently, wishing he could rub away his friend’s pain. 

“I close my eyes and I see a black glove reaching for my head. And… and I feel his reactions to my memories. It’s like once he touched one, he turned it dark.” At the last sentence, Poe began sobbing in earnest, dropping his head to Finn’s shoulder. Finn pressed in closer and wrapped his arms around Poe’s waist. 

“He didn’t, though,” Finn said as he held Poe, “they’re still the same memories from before. _Yours_ Not his.” For several long minutes, Finn let Poe have his release, sobbing quietly on Finn’s shoulder. Finn remained still for him – tried to be the mountain for the tempest of Poe’s grief. Slowly, Poe’s chest stopped heaving and his sobs reduced to hiccupping breaths. Finn sat back on his heels, took Poe’s hands and looked him in the eyes. “Tell me about the time you broke your arm when you were nine.” 

It was a story Finn had heard no less than four times; but in retelling, Poe regained his smile and told the story with the usual mischievous tones that characterized Poe’s childhood. Finn didn’t comment on it, but simply listened as Poe was able to go to a place where Kylo Ren could not touch. In that space, in that room, Poe recounted stories of his childhood, of his teenage years, of his time with the Resistance, of his mother and father and the jungles of Yavin 4. The memories surrounded them, unfolding over the course of several hours, floating around them the way the breeze would lift up the fuzzy seeds of one of D’Qar’s plants, soft and silver, gentle and beautiful. 

Once Poe had settled, Finn reached for the flowers. “I was out for a walk earlier and saw these. I thought you might like them,” he said as his stomach gave a nervous flip. 

Poe took the flowers in one hand; with the other, he touched Finn’s cheek. Finn found he couldn’t breathe as Poe’s gaze flicked down to Finn’s lips. Poe leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Finn’s, and Finn imitated the movements – the slide of lips, the changing of the angle, the touch of Poe’s tongue to his own.

As Finn returned Poe’s kisses, he felt he had found his place in the galaxy – by Poe’s side, fighting for peace and freedom.

Fighting for silver flowers and Poe’s smile.

**Purple**

The stars outside the transport’s window slowed from streaks of white to specks as Poe took them out of hyperdrive, D’Qar coming into focus below.

Finn watched as the ground below grew closer and Poe slowed the descent to an absurdly pokey pace. “Taking your time?” Finn asked with a grin.

“No hurry to get back,” Poe replied as he reached over and took Finn’s hand. Finn lifted it and placed a kiss to Poe’s knuckles. 

Poe looked at Finn, his brown eyes soft and warm and full of love. 

Finn realized it right there, sitting in the transport with Poe – he finally understood what it meant to love. In the forest, a flower called _Conlilia_ bloomed as the temperature warmed, its petals slowly unfolding until it met the sun with long, luscious petals. This was how Finn had learned what love meant – like a flower opening slowly to the warmth around it with each passing day. 

To Finn, love was the first time he interacted with Poe in the TIE fighter, high on adrenaline and freedom, heart hammering in his throat as Poe said, “Finn, I’m gonna call you Finn. Is that alright?” and Finn grew giddy with thoughts of having an identity and a friend, even as his future laid uncertain before him. Happiness bloomed in his chest. 

It was also when he was about to help Rey fight off bandits, but it turned out she could hold her own. He found it in the urge to protect her, and that urge turned to awe, admiration, and respect as he realized she was more than capable of protecting herself. Her fierce independence, ripping her hand from his, her ability to look her opponent in the eye and knock him down – those things he stored close to his heart.

It was the time Poe collided against him, bounced up in his arms and told Finn to keep his jacket, and Finn didn’t miss the lip bite. He didn’t miss the way Poe’s gaze dropped over his body and made him feel hot like he was covered from head to toe in the scalding sands of Jakku. That frantic desire, Finn had decided, was a part of it as well. 

He felt love when he went to report to the General and found her weeping behind her desk. Going against every fiber of his First Order training, he approached his commanding officer and wrapped her in his arms. She returned his embrace and talked quietly with him for several minutes. Finn walked away and realized he hadn’t even given his report, but found he didn’t much care. It could wait until later. His need to see the General smile again surpassed that.

He saw it in the eyes of Jess and Snap when they cornered him after Finn and Poe kissed in front of everyone after a mission, making their relationship officially known (though it seemed like a surprise to just about no one). They threatened various sensitive body parts if he dared to hurt Poe, and Finn simply smiled and said “I’d never hurt him. He saved my life.” He admired their fierce loyalty and concern for their friend, another form of love. 

He found it the General’s voice when Finn and Poe reported to her after a month-and-a-half-long mission; they sat in front of her filthy, stinking, and bruised and sporting some cuts that were still bleeding. Ultimately they were able to obtain the intelligence they needed and after they gave it to her, she simply said to them, “take a week to yourselves, gentlemen. You deserve it.” 

After a shower, soak, bandages, and half a day’s sleep, the two packed their bags and headed to Yavin 4 – to Poe’s home. 

Love, Finn had discovered, consisted of opening yourself fully to someone else, stepping over fear to show someone who you really are. Poe revealed to Finn his childhood rock collection, his father’s pipe, his mother’s scarf. It meant picking up an old broken object and saying _what had happened was…_. It meant taking your innermost fears and saying them out loud. It meant chopping, cooking and cleaning, and passing hours curled up and reading. It was giving pet names, joking, teasing, and tickling.

On the final evening, they stayed up all night under the force-sensitive tree, a pile of blankets cushioning Finn’s back. The blue-green leaves rustled overhead as Poe whispered _good, Finn, you’re so good_ while the cool night air kissed Finn’s overheated skin. 

It was the feeling of Poe’s curls clutched in Finn’s fingers – the huffs of air that Poe made when he spilled his release. 

They were still awake, kissing lazily, when the sun teased the horizon, not quite ready to make its ascent, and Finn’s heart felt full to bursting.

Love was the clouds stretched above their heads, promising them many mornings to come filled with touch and love, a beautiful pre-dawn purple.

**Author's Note:**

> Poe's song for Finn is inspired by Oscar Isaac's original song [Switchable City](https://youtu.be/4WyYXgYw0Dc).


End file.
